


Stop Or I'll --

by apiphile



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Marauders' Era, Mutual Masturbation, non-wizarding, porn-watching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-22
Updated: 2010-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-07 11:32:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apiphile/pseuds/apiphile





	Stop Or I'll --

**Author's Note:**

  * For [myselftheliar](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=myselftheliar), [punkstara](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=punkstara).



"What's this one?"

"Stop Or I'll Squirt1," Remus said, holding up the garishly-coloured cardboard sleeve, remembering to hold the bottom this time so the video wouldn't fall out. It had seemed so innocuous when Sirius returned from Soho bearing it and several others, all nestling in exactly the same brown paper bags as the peaches he'd picked up along the way. "I'm still not sure this is a good idea."

"_I_ got fired," Sirius pointed out rather unnecessarily, stretching out along the sofa. "_I_ will decide how to drown my sorrows." He didn't sound as self-pitying as he had when he'd announced it originally, but Remus rather suspected that getting wilfully drunk at lunchtime and spending an obscene amount of he couldn't afford on pornography had probably taken the edge off his indignation.

"I just don't see how watching eight hours of non-stop … y'know … is going to help you get a new job," Remus sighed, finally giving in to Sirius's pointed glares at the video recorder and sliding the wedge of black, unlabelled plastic into the machine's waiting maw. It stuck. Remus slapped the bottom of the tape and it went in, swallowed by the complex array of cogs and ratchets that he didn't want to try and understand.

"It won't," Sirius agreed, his mouth full of peach, "but it'll make me feel better."

"So would a cup of tea," Remus said doggedly, climbing back onto the sagging sofa by Sirius's feet and reaching for the peaches as the infernal machine beeped and ground happily to itself, and brought up a blurry picture of the logo which Sirius assured him was a mark of high quality filth.

"My dear Moony," Sirius said in a grave voice, as the first set of jiggling bosoms filled the screen, "all the tea in the world cannot wash the woes from me. Now shut up and watch this girl get done up the arse."

For a few minutes Remus sat on his hands and watched the girl with the lily tattoo on her back being, as Sirius had said, er, entered. Unnaturally. Remus frowned. She seemed to be enjoying it a good deal more than he imagined anyone really would, if the unearthly noises were anything to go by, whereas he was finding himself more and more tempted by the idea of one of Sirius's peaches.

A thought struck him around the time that the girl with the lily tattoo first ejaculated messily. He abandoned the thought as mockably naïve (evidently girls _did_ ejaculate as well as boys or there wouldn't have been such a forceful and noisy eruption on the screen) and went with the second: "Sirius," he said, as the girl's replacement began rotating her bum over a wicked-looking dildo.

"What? I don't want a cup of tea. How can you think about tea when Fanny Sanchez is about to –"

"I wasn't going to offer you tea."

Sirius frowned at the TV. "I _am_ open to other offers."

"Sadly I just wanted to ask a question." In their eighteen months of living together since leaving school, Sirius had lost three jobs, cycled through six girlfriends with a tendency towards American exchange students, and thrown about a wide variety of incomprehensible innuendo. Remus had grown quite adept at ignoring it. He crossed his legs on the small slice of sofa afforded to him by Sirius's sprawling legs. "I was just wondering …"

"Yes?" Sirius made an impatient noise as Fanny Sanchez performed an eye-watering disappearing act with the length of purple plastic. Remus wondered if there was actually anything ever attractive about the colour purple, never mind sexually arousing, but plunged on with the first, slightly more pressing problem.

"Watching porn together," Remus went on, groping at his ankles partly to keep them from sliding off the sofa and partly to give him somewhere to put his hands and not have to worry about what might happen to them.

"Yes?" Sirius's impatience was almost tangible; Fanny Sanchez's bottom, Remus thought abstractly, must be quite sore.

"It's just that, well, when you think about it …"

"_Yes_?" Sirius almost turned in his seat this time. Fanny Sanchez had been replaced with the first girl, who probably ought to have cut her nails before she started rubbing quite so enthusiastically at such tender parts. "Fuck's sake, Moony, out with it."

"Isn't it a little bit _gay_?"

Sirius eyeballed the damp, bulging ceiling with an air of acute exasperation, which Remus didn't think he'd merited at all, and said in a world-weary voice, "Moony. They're all _women_. How is it gay?"

"The chap who was, er, romancing, er, the girl with the tattoo, at the beginning."

"What?"

"Well, he wasn't a woman."

"Well spotted, Moony. What was it that gave it away? The hairy arse? The guttural grunts? The stonking great hard-on?" Sirius picked another peach out of the paper bag down the side of the sofa and waved it at him. "Peach?"

"Thank you." Remus caught it clumsily.

"Will you shut up and watch the porn now?" Sirius had already jerked his gaze back to the screen as though it was attached to the, er, actress's body with fishing wire. Remus shuffled himself into a more comfortable position and turned the peach over in his hands.

"I was thinking about making a cup of tea, actually, did you want –"

"_No_, I do not want a fucking cup of tea. Fuck's sake. Tea in the middle of porn. I can just see you in your own feature – Stop Or I'll Put The Kettle On. _Christ_." Sirius swatted irritably at the air between them without turning his head, leaving Remus to pass the peach absently from hand to hand.

Remus thought he might have dozed off, because the increase in tempo and pitch of moaning had happened quite abruptly, and his peach was missing and – he sat forwards on his shins – had rolled onto the floor, rendering it inedible unless he wanted to dice with death. The girl on the screen now was an entirely separate one from the previous girls, wearing a bad wig and a lurid shade of lipstick, and her face was distorted into a slack grimace of apparent ecstasy, and Sirius was fidgeting about the sofa as though an army of ants had wandered into his underwear.

"What's the matter with you?"

Sirius gestured to his groin with a brief, fluttering smile and rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to last eight hours of porn –"

"That's what I _told you_."

"Without a little help."

"Help?" Remus's eyebrows clambered all over each other in confusion, writhing about his brow like ferrets in heat. "Oh. No. No no. Whatever you feel about watching porn together, that _would_ be somewhat … gay."

"It'll only take a minute," Sirius complained, squirming about the sofa as though his hips were possessed. "I mean seriously only a minute. That last girl was something else …"

"Think about what you're asking me," Remus said severely, as Sirius wriggled like a landed fish. "You are asking me, your second oldest friend, to – ah, to – ah …to, to, engage in, um, activities which fall outside of the remit of friendship. Somewhat."

"Do not," Sirius grumbled through gritted teeth, "if you were a real friend you'd help a friend in _need_ -"

"I really don't think that's the kind of need people mean when they say that," Remus said uncertainly. Perhaps it was one of those untalked-of rules of friendship that he kept missing out. Or then again, perhaps it was one of those moments of bastardry from his dear friend, like the time he'd convinced a much younger and more gullible Master Lupin that _true friends_ gave their puddings to their best friends and didn't wear underwear on Thursdays. The chafing had only just beaten the lack of custard for putting him off that particular ritual forever. "For goodness sake. You wouldn't ask _James_ to …"

"Not _now_," Sirius agreed, his hips jiggling in ways Remus wouldn't have thought possible if he hadn't been watching porn for the last half an hour, "but back at school, all the time –"

"You mean you and he have …" Remus tried not to make a scandalised face. Scandal, however, was probably a better option than the other emotion vying for expression, so he went with it, gaping at Sirius as though he'd never seen him before.

"Once, maybe twice," Sirius groaned irritably, "Does it matter? A couple of flicks of the wrist over Playwizard, that's all. There's nothing _weird_ about it."

"I'd prefer to think of my hand being put to use with me in mind," Remus said without thinking, "rather than some scrawny blonde with a wiggly bottom." He didn't register the slip until something body temperature and heavy hit him at high speed and pinned him to the cushions.

"Oh is _that_ what's bothering you?" Sirius snarled, snatching Remus's hand by the wrist and apparently fumbling with the fly to his trousers at the same time; something metal scratched the back of Remus's hand but there didn't seem to be time to remark upon it. "It's not enough that I spend most of the night thinking about you, I have to put myself out over the porn too?"

"Um," Remus said, as Sirius shoved his unprotesting and slightly tense hand into his underwear. He closed his fingers around Sirius's dick more by instinct than anything else, and it was hot and solid and velvety in his palm. Just like his, but not his. All the same, he couldn't help feeling a kind of sympathy twitch in his own pants, maybe from habit, because his hand was around a dick, and usually that meant …

Sirius derailed his already floundering train of thought by burying his face in Remus's neck and making a noise somewhere between a growl and a choke, his lips dry but soft against Remus's skin. His dick gave an even more sympathetic twitch at that, and something around the base of his spine tingled gently.

"_Moony_," Sirius hissed into Remus's jugular, apparently displeased with his hesitation. So displeased, in fact, that he ground his hips forwards and shuffled them back, effectively _fucking Remus's hand_.

Remus wasn't quite sure how he felt about that. He considered gently shoving Sirius off and telling him to stop it, but it wasn't an urgent sort of need, really, and just as he was dismissing the idea of protest as silly and unnecessary, Sirius started kneading his neck with his mouth and breathing hot and damp over the exposed skin and Remus wouldn't have shoved him away for all the tea in China.

Probably. Although if the hypothetical offer had included all the tea in India too he'd have been hard-pressed to choose.

But with no one offering him tea and Sirius humping insistently at his loosely-clenched hand, his t-shirt rubbing over Remus's jumper, his mouth shaping foreign-seeming silent words against Remus's neck … he felt rather more than content. Maybe a little giddy. Definitely a little odd. Perhaps –

"Nngg," Sirius grunted, his teeth pinching _really painfully_ around a tiny piece of Remus's skin. Remus's grip tightened convulsively and, somehow in perfect time with the crescendo of the squeaks and groans from the TV screen, Sirius came.

There was a moment of stillness on the sofa while Sirius relinquished his hold on Remus's neck and Remus dragged his hands out of Sirius's flies hastily and looked around for something to wipe his palm on and wondered when the hell his friend had become so heavy.

"Um," he said, waving his Sirius-besplattered hand around in the air above the culprit's head.

"Just lick," Sirius advised, not bothering to move his face from Remus's collarbone. Remus was rather grateful; it seemed to fit quite well there. "S'what I always do."

The tingle at the bottom of Remus's spine deigned to become a guilty fizzing firework at the mental image this produced. "Oh," he said, examining the palm of his hand with interest. "Right, then." He had extended his tongue almost to the point of touching the mess Sirius had left when another thought struck him. "Does this mean –"

"It means I owe you one," Sirius muttered into Remus's throat, his bodyweight pinning Remus to the sofa as effectively as an _immobilus_ charm. "And –" Sirius readjusted himself, apparently for his own comfort since it wasn't doing much to stop his hipbones digging into Remus's stomach, " – it means we don't have to watch the rest of the porn."

"Thank god for that."

"I'll watch it at some point," Sirius yawned

"Why did you buy eight hours of the rotten stuff?" Remus licked his palm experimentally. It tasted …indescribable. It also made his crotch stir embarrassingly.

"Didn't know how long it would take for you to crack."

* * *

1\. This is a real porno, but the description won't mesh with the content because I haven't seen it in a while and it's not terribly remarkable.


End file.
